


Terms of Endearment

by MaddieStilinski



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Erica Reyes & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Everyone Is Alive, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, McCall Pack, One Shot, Pack Dynamics, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Prompt, no one went to France
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-10 17:05:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4400177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaddieStilinski/pseuds/MaddieStilinski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His head’s still spinning when Stiles pulls away, breathing hard, and says, ‘Looks like I’ll be getting a happy ending after all.’</p>
            </blockquote>





	Terms of Endearment

**Author's Note:**

> Back to Sterek this time guys! This was a tumblr prompt and I really liked it, so I thought I'd post it here. Let me know what you think!

When they arrive, Scott’s carrying Stiles. Bridal style.

It takes Derek a few disbelieving blinks before he has the presence of mind to say, ‘Hello.’

‘Alright, Grumpy McEyebrows?’ Stiles says, nodding over at him. He points to a vacant spot on the couch with his free hand. ‘Over there, Scotty-boy. And be gentle. I’m not at my peak.’

‘You and McCall finally tied the knot?’ Erica asks, eyebrows raised, smirking. She flops down in the space Stiles had indicated, grins when they both moan indignantly.

‘ _No_ ,’ Stiles mumbles, flicking her ear as they walk past. ‘I pulled a muscle in my leg. Scott said I was walking too slow.’

‘I said you were _moaning_ too much,’ Scott corrects him, manoeuvring round the other side of the couch. ‘And anyway, it was better than watching you limp.’ He dumps Stiles into the free space next to Derek, and Stiles squawks.

‘Dude! What happened to gentle!?’

Scott shrugs. ‘My arms got tired.’

‘Alphas’ aren’t supposed to lie!’

‘Who says I was lying?’

‘I do,’ Stiles jabs a finger at him, then turns and looks imploringly at Derek. ‘Back me up here, dude.’

Derek frowns. ‘Don’t call me dude.’

‘Ugh whatever,’ Stiles sighs, sinking back against the cushions, elbow brushing Derek’s forearm. ‘Where’re the others?’

‘Getting Chinese,’ Isaac replies, looking up from his phone. ‘They should be back soon.’

Stiles moans, eyes rolling back into his head, and Derek… well, Derek forgets how to breathe for a moment. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Erica’s judgement face.

‘ _What_?’ he mouths, narrowing his eyes. She just shrugs, gives him a knowing look. Derek rolls his eyes.

 

‘How’d you pull a muscle then, Stilinksi,’ Erica asks, dragging her smirk away from Derek.

Stiles shrugs, and his shoulder bumps Derek.‘Lacrosse practise. Turns out dramatic dives only look cool in movies.’

‘I thought it was cool,’ Scott says, settling down in the armchair opposite. Stiles clutches his chest, pretends to hold back tears. ‘Bro. I’m touched.’

Scott throws a cushion at his face. ‘Shut up.’

‘Tell me, Derek,’ Stiles glares, flailing away from it, ‘are Alphas’ supposed to throw things at their favourite humans?’

Derek huffs, tries desperately to keep his face neutral. ‘You’re ridiculous.’

‘It’s a yes or no question, Derek.’

‘I think I gave a valid response.’

‘Ugh, you guys are the _worst_ ,’ Stiles moans, slouching a little lower into the couch. ‘Where’s the love when you need it?’

‘Hmm,’ Erica purrs, leaning forward and giving a _very_ meaningful glance in Derek’s direction. ‘I think you’d be surprised.’

 

Derek’s jut about to throw the damn couch at her, Stiles and all, when the door opens and a wash of noise filters inside.

‘We’re back!’ Lydia calls, shaking a bag of Chinese their way, holding the door as Allison, Kira, Boys, Liam and Mason file in after her.

‘It took six of you to get Chinese?’ Isaac asks, eyebrows raised in disbelief.

‘No,’ Lydia replies, pushing the door closed. ‘It took three of us,’ she points at herself, Kira and Allison. ‘Boyd met us downstairs and we picked those two up on the way,’ she nods her head towards Liam and Mason.

‘Malia’s on her way,’ Allison adds, putting her bag down on the table and slipping into the chair with Scott, who leans in to kiss her.

‘We can still eat though, right?’ Erica asks, shuffling over so Boyd can slip in beside her.

Isaac snorts. ‘It’s cool. Malia can share with me.’

‘Fantastic,’ Stiles says, clapping his hands together. ‘Let’s get this party started.’

‘Party?’ Liam pipes up from his spot on the floor. ‘I thought this was a meeting.’

‘It’s as close to a party as you’re gonna get, buddy,’ Stiles winks at him, then immediately yelps as Derek cuffs him round the head. ‘What the hell was that for?’

‘Don’t be mean,’ Derek says.

Stiles’ expression turns playful a second before it shifts to serious again. ‘You gonna invite him to parties?’

Derek takes the bait, and really who can blame him? Stiles is blinking up at him with those Bambi eyes and impossible lashes, and damnit, Derek likes seeing them light up, okay?’ Sue him. ‘We invite _you_ don’t we?’ he jibes, sticking a finger into Stiles’ ribs so he squirms away.

‘Hey,’ Stiles protests, pointing at him. ‘I am _very_ mature, thank you.’

‘That’s right,’ Erica says, twirling a curl around her finger. ‘He’s a big boy now.’

Derek chokes on air, but Stiles, oblivious, soldiers on.

‘Thank you Erica,’ he says accepting a plate from Lydia. ‘Nice to know _someone’s_ on my side.’

And then he winks. Honest to god _winks_. This is going to be a long evening.

 

*

Some time later, after hours of torturous hand gestures, questionable singing, and a full ten minutes of Stiles teaching Scott how to grind (he doesn’t want to talk about it) everyone starts to slowly head home, leaving with the promise of a summary email from Lydia the next day. Then it’s just Derek. Well, Derek and Stiles.

‘You comfy there?’ Derek says, nudging Stiles’ feet off the coffee table.

‘I’m sorry,’ Stiles replies with a colossal sigh. ‘I’m trying to work up the courage to move.’

Derek huffs out a laugh. ‘I can see you’re trying really hard with that.’

‘This isn’t a joke, Derek,’ Stiles pouts, and Derek doesn’t get distracted by how much he’d like to drag his teeth across that bottom lip.

‘I’m not laughing.’

Stiles moans out loud, covers his face with a cushion. ‘You should be.’

Derek sits down again, picks up his beer and takes a sip. ‘Do elaborate.’

‘I was just _running_ ,’ Stiles says, miserably. ‘And then I just sort of tripped and now I can’t move and I hate everything.’ He sighs again, buries his face further into the cushion.

Derek rolls his eyes for what must be the thousandth time. ‘Don’t you think you’re being a tad dramatic?’

‘ _No_ ,’ Stiles shoots back, indignantly. ‘I was supposed to go hiking with my dad this weekend. It’s our new thing. We spend one weekend a month out of town, just the two of us.’ He huffs, throws the cushion back on the couch. ‘Looks like that plan’s out the window.’

That catches Derek off guard. Maybe it’s the kind of desperately sad expression leaking into Stiles’ features, like an ink stain bleeding across paper, or maybe it’s his own deep longing for some quality father/son binding time, but Derek gets how much it means to him.

And it’s this train of thought that leads Derek to say, ‘Do you… well… I mean… I could give you a massage.’

_What?_

‘What?’ Stiles’ face is a picture of confusion for all of two seconds before he realises that, yes, that _is_ what Derek said. Honestly, Derek’s just as confused as him.

‘I’m sorry,’ Derek blurts out, closing his eyes if only so he doesn’t have to see his embarrassment mirrored in those addictive brown eyes. ‘That was stupid, I shouldn’t-‘

‘Woah there,’ Stiles cuts across him. The couch rocks, and Derek can only assume he’s changed position. ‘Would you actually?’

And now it’s Derek’s turn to say, ‘What?’

‘Massage,’ Stiles clarifies, wiggling his fingers in front of Derek’s now open eyes. ‘You know with the candles and fancy music and such?’

‘Do you see any candles?’ Derek asks flatly.

Stiles manoeuvres until he’s facing Derek. ‘Okay but seriously,’ he starts, wetting his bottom lip. ‘Would you do it?’

‘Well I _offered_ , didn’t I?’

‘I guess. But I want to be sure.’ Stiles’ eyes flit to Derek’s hands, then back to his face. ‘I want… yeah.’

Derek blinks once, twice, then nods and puts down his beer. ‘Okay.’

Stiles blinks once, coughs. ‘Cool.’

 

Seconds pass in complete silence, the space between them suddenly small, charged with something new. It could be minutes later when Stiles swallows and says, ‘So… where do you want to do this?’

Derek shrugs. ‘I guess the bed would be easiest.’ And _why_ is his mouth doing this to him today?

‘Did you just invite me to your bed, Derek?’ Stiles gasps, pretending to faint. ‘Only in my wildest dreams!’

‘Do you want a massage or not?’ Derek growls.

Stiles rolls his heck back, whines loudly. ‘Yes. Fine. Please take me to your bed.’

Already regretting his life choices, Derek huffs and stands up, scoops Stiles into his arms before his brain has a chance to register what he’s doing. Stiles’ surprised cry is shuffled by Derek’s shirt as he instinctively buries his face into it, hands balled up in the material.

‘I’m dreaming,’ he murmurs, emerging. ‘The only explanation for this is that I’m dreaming.’

‘You’re not dreaming, Stiles,’ Derek mutters, kicking open his bedroom door. He puts Stiles down in the bed, watches as he wiggles around, nestling down in his sheets.

‘Dude, I _am_ dreaming,’ Stiles says, grinning at him from somewhere near the pillows. ‘There is no way you have a bed this comfy.’

‘What’s that suppose to mean?’

‘Nothing!’ Stiles sits up. ‘It’s just, you slept in an abandoned train for a year. I wasn’t sure you knew what comfort is.’

‘I know,’ Derek says, crossing the room to grab the oils. ‘Now take your pants off.’

Stiles swallows. ‘Not exactly the circumstance I expected to hear that, but I’ll take it.’

Derek freezes. ‘Wait. What?’

Stiles cringes. ‘Come on, dude. Don’t make me say it again.’ He holds out a hand and waves it in Derek’s direction. ‘You’re all like…’ he grapples for words, ‘like.’ He sighs. ‘I mean _look_ at yourself, Derek.’

Derek drops the oil on the bed, a silent eruption happening somewhere in his brain. ‘You think…?’

‘I think you’re hot, _yes_. God!’ Stiles flops back against the pillows, scowls at the ceiling.

Derek sits down on the edge of the bed, stares instantly at Stiles’ feet. ‘I think you are too.’

Stiles’ eyes flick down the bed. ‘Derek…’

‘I’m not lying, Stiles. I think you’re hot too.’

‘Me?’ Stiles asks, utterly surprised. ‘You,’ he points at Derek, ‘think I’m,’ he points at himself, ‘hot?’

‘No,’ Derek says. ‘I was talking to the other person in the room.’

‘I was just checking,’ Stiles says, wiggling back down the bed. ’This is mind blowing to me, dude.’

‘Why?’ Derek asks, noticing how close they are. ‘I’m not very subtle.’

‘Subtle enough for me.’ Stiles laughs, and they’re close enough that Derek can count his moles.

‘Must be those sub-parr human senses.’

Stiles raises a fist, shakes his head. ‘Foiled again.’

Derek huffs out a laugh. ‘You’re ridiculous.’

‘You say that a lot for someone who thinks I’m hot,’ Stiles says, raising his eyebrows.

Derek shrugs. ‘It’s a term of endearment.’

Stiles moves a little closer, smile dragging across his features. ‘Go on then,’ he says, glancing down at Derek’s mouth, then back to his face. ‘Endear me.’

Derek can’t breathe with this proximity, how much he wants this. Stiles is chewing on his bottom lip, an it’s not at all distracting. ‘That doesn’t make any sense,’ he manages to choke out.

‘Derek Hale thinks I’m hot,’ Stiles grins. ‘Nothing makes sense anymore.’

 

And then the space between them become none at all, Stiles pressing his mouth against Derek’s until Derek accommodates and parts his lips, lets Stiles deepen the kiss, arms wrapped around Derek’s neck. It’s slow and a little tentative, but Derek likes that. It’s different to what he’s had before, sort of gentle and deep, like Stiles wants to remember it. It makes Derek want more. More than he ever thought he’s want again. It makes him want lazy Sundays and pizza nights and fights over nothing. It makes him think he might get that, here with Stiles.

His head’s still spinning when Stiles pulls away, breathing hard, and says, ‘Looks like I’ll be getting a happy ending after all.’


End file.
